


History's Imprint

by keirajo



Series: The Prime and the Emperor [6]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 18:08:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21123047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keirajo/pseuds/keirajo
Summary: Rodimus Prime needs to speak with Vector Sigma about many things, especially as Starscream's Destron forces get stronger and more widespread in the universe, but this time he may finally get some answers.





	1. Everything Is Connected

**Author's Note:**

> Life is killing me. I hope to finish a whole slew of things in the next couple of weeks. *bows*

** _ History’s Imprint _ **

_ Chapter One: Everything Is Connected _

“**_Priiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimmmmmmmmmmmmeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!_**” The so-familiar voice rang through the thin atmosphere of Chaar. Eerie wails of the nova cannon’s charges and blasts echoed through the area.

Even though Rodimus Prime and Galvatron were sparring well-outside the main habituated area of Chaar, the thin atmosphere made all sounds carry straight to the embassy and habitation district, especially all sounds from Galvatron—who had absolutely no idea just how loud his voice and nova cannon _really were._ Galvatron probably really didn’t even care what the volume of his voice and weapon was—when he was chasing that flame-colored Autobot _all rationality went straight off the planet_!

“Is it always like this?” Firedrive asked, looking out the wide front windows of the embassy, where he saw the dust clouds and shots fired in the distance. 

Kicker shrugged and looked up at Novablaze, who was standing with them at the window.

“_Yeah, **kinda**_,” the young mech responded. Even though he was taller than both the human and the Mini-Con Battle Master—he was also _younger_ than the both of them. “Sire thinks that cari is his _one true rival_, so he likes to fight with him just as much as do all that adult stuff with him. Cari thinks it’s exciting that sire gives him so much attention.”

“Well, I suppose all relationships have their odd little twists and turns,” Firedrive chuckled, turning away from the windows and walking over to the seating area. The embassy was bustling today with Autobots from Cybertron and Earth, Decepticons visiting with their [newer] Autobot friends here at the embassy—as well as some of the small crew of the _Arrowshot_ wandering about with Rodimus Prime currently clearly occupied by Galvatron’s attentions at the moment. It warmed Firedrive’s Spark to see a time without war between Autobots and Decepticons and how it was progressing towards peace.

Stormbreaker was currently following Windblade around, trying to do _everything_ that she was doing in greeting people and showing them on tours through the embassy—it was rather cute, in a way. Both were aerial femmes and both had a primary red color on their frames………and both were born to a sire and carrier, as sparklings—though Windblade was _definitely_ much older than Stormbreaker was.

Kicker plopped down onto the couch seating next to Firedrive, leaning back into the back of the couch, which pretty much made a “_lounger_” for the human teenager, as his feet didn’t even drape over the edge of the couch seating. He shoved his hands into his light jacket’s pockets and gave a deep sigh.

“Hey, Firedrive………..is there anything I should know before we go to Cybertron and meet this Vector Sigma guy?” The teenage boy asked, looking over at the grey-and-black mech.

“Well, Vector Sigma isn’t a _‘guy’_—it’s a programming system,” the Battle Master chuckled warmly. “For a visual cue, it looks like a golden orb hovering in a room, but it contains the entire program of the planet Cybertron.”

“_Hunh_…….so, like a _‘master computer’_ then? That’s cool,” Kicker said with a grin.

“Cari knows **_a lot_** about Cybertron and Vector Sigma and stuff……….he’s done tons of research over the years,” Novablaze said, sitting crosslegged on the floor in front of the couch the two smaller beings were sitting on. “He always wants to learn more, too……..”

“This is something that should be beneficial to **_all_** Transformers. We spent much of our history choosing to ignore our past until all of those who knew of our origins were gone and _then_………?” Firedrive trailed off.

“Then the Quintessons reappeared,” Novablaze murmured, knowing what little his carrier had learned from the historical overviews that Rodimus Prime had written on their species origins. Rodimus wasn’t good at writing books, but he’d made copious notes and so forth on everything he’d learned since he’d first become Autobot Leader—he had the hope that _someday, someone, somewhere_ would write that history book that **_needed_** to be written. “Firedrive………..are you Battle Masters as old as the other Mini-Cons?”

“_No_. We are more recent additions to the Transformers species—as far as those terms may go. We were all given an _adaptive vocalizer_, for one thing—the Mini-Cons only have one programmable setting on their vocalizers, which is why they speak the original slave language,” the black-and-grey mech said with a smile and a chuckle. “Like the gestalts were a type created by the Quintessons who remained on Cybertron after the primary exodus of their kind, as a sort of adaptive technology to fight back against their rebellious creations—_the gestalts were meant to be a warrior with no equal_—we Battle Masters were created with the intention of assisting in the Autobot and Decepticon war, created by Vector Sigma to do so.”

“_Oh_? How do you guys _‘help’_, then?” Kicker asked, sitting up straight and crossing his legs as he looked over at his new friend.

“_Mmmm_. Some things are better shown than said, but I currently am not allowed by the medics to take my alt mode,” Firedrive murmured. “Smashdown……….would you come over here for a moment?” He asked, calling to his friend, who had just wandered into the lobby and was looking out the windows at the battle going on in the distance. “Novablaze, would you stand up and get ready to hold a weapon?” He asked, looking at the young mech sitting on the floor in front of them.

The young purple-and-yellow mech looked at the Battle Master a bit puzzled, but he stood up and backed away from the couch in a ready battle-stance. Smashdown gave a light, warbling chuckle and then gave a little hop as he transformed into his alt mode—_a powerful battle hammer_. Novablaze gripped the handle of Smashdown’s alt mode quickly and swung him a little bit.

“_This is very fascinating!_ He’s not that heavy, but I can feel that he’s _extremely powerful_—I could do serious damage wielding him in combat!” Novablaze said, excitedly. Then he tossed the hammer up and Smashdown transformed back into his primary mode and gave a thumb’s up to the young mech. “_So_………you Battle Masters transform into weapons?”

“Most of us, _yes_. There are some of us who offer other assistances that may be beneficial on a battlefield—a shield or a specialized jetpack to make someone faster and more maneuverable,” Firedrive answered. “And though the Autobot and Decepticon war seems to have been concluded—Starscream’s new faction has taken its place.”

“You know about the Destrons?” Kicker asked, curiously.

“We have a pretty good intelligence-gathering network. There were three of our ships that went out towards the Galactic Alliance borders and the frontier—we were sent to seek particular individuals. I was sent out to look for Rodimus Prime………..and, **_you_**, actually. Vector Sigma divined that you would be with Rodimus at some point in time,” the grey-and-black mech responded with a warm smile. “I am also supposed to look for this one particular femme, but………..I have heard unsavory reports about her, so I am uncertain if Vector Sigma still wishes me to find her. I’ll need to ask, when we go.”

“_So_, what about your friends, then? Do you know who _they _were looking for?” Novablaze asked, sitting back down on the floor in front of the couch. Smashdown, having nothing better to do, sat down beside him. The young mech rubbed the red-colored Battle Master’s bull-like head fondly.

“Well, Nightstick was supposed to go looking for a Decepticon named _‘Drift’_ amongst a few others, but we couldn’t find records of the name anywhere. We found he was attached to a military unit sent to the frontier with the powerful commander, **_Deszaras_**…………” Firedrive trailed off, shaking his head and shrugging.

“_Captain Deszaras_? Most of his unit was killed—the only survivor is **_Deadlock_**. He’s a cool guy, a little dour sometimes though,” Novablaze laughed.

“_Oh_, the dude with the guns, right?” Kicker laughed. “Yeah, _he’s cool_. And a bit too serious about life—his wit is really………..**_dark_**,” the teenager chuckled.

“You’re certain his name is _Deadlock_?” Firedrive asked, puzzled. He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “_Ah_. It is entirely possible he may have changed his name from his birthname at some point in his life. Some of us change by choice and some have no choice………..” he murmured.

“_Yeah_…….you said your name was originally _‘Firebolt’_! Why don’t you change it back? You’re **_free_** now………” Kicker snapped, folding his arms across his chest with frustration.

“For now, I’ll leave it as _‘Firedrive’_—I know Rodimus Prime said I shouldn’t do so, but to me………it’s a punishment for my failure to my crew. I _failed _to protect them from Hala Jurel,” the grey-and-black mech responded, nodding his head solemnly. “When I feel I’ve finally atoned for that, I will take my birthname back. But you know this Deadlock? Can he be contacted easily?”

“I’m sure Rodimus can have someone call the _Thunder Arrow_,” Kicker said with a shrug.

“_Yeah_, cari talks to Captain Deszaras all the time,” Novablaze added with a big grin.

“Then if the Constructicons have finished the repairs on my _Iron Fleur_, I can probably leave a message for Nightstick to contact me and we can pass along that information,” Firedrive murmured. “There were two others he was supposed to look for, but he didn’t have any names. He was merely given descriptions…….as I have been for you, Kicker and for Rodimus Prime.”

“_Oh?_ What was **_my_** description?” The human teenager laughed.

“_The golden flame_. You were also described as an _organic_, so…………it narrowed things down quite a lot,” the grey-and-black mech said, reaching a servo up to brush some of Kicker’s lightly glowing wisps of hair.

“What about _the femme_?” Novablaze inquired, looking up at Firedrive. “The one you don’t feel happy about.”

“**_Her_**, I know………._and I know where she’s at_. But I am not very confident she will be of use to Vector Sigma, though I should try to trust the will of Primus………….” Firedrive sighed softly. “_The flame of war……….**Flamewar**._”

“**_UGH!!!_**” Novablaze groaned, facepalming himself. Though he was younger when she was on Chaar and caused all that trouble, the young mech remembered _exactly _who Flamewar was.

“_Yes_. I was given the information she caused trouble here on Chaar and she is currently incarcerated on Cybertron. I don’t need to look for her, I _know _where she’s at,” Firedrive said with a light chuckle as he saw that the young mech knew who the femme was.

“_Okay_. Now I’m curious. You were clearly looking for Transformers, or me, with a tie to flames or fire. Is it a thing for those other Battle Master crews as well?” Kicker asked, leaning back against the couch, but turning slightly to face the grey-and-black mech.

“_Yes_. Nightstick’s crew was looking for the _‘ones of balance’_. I know it sounds odd, but he was looking for ones that were **_balanced_** in Spark and program—the ones who never faltered and knew their way forward through everything,” Firedrive answered. “Then there’s Recoil—he was the oldest of us Battle Masters, the first one forged by Vector Sigma. His crew is looking for those of _‘chaos’_.”

“_Sire! **He’s looking for sire!** Sire is the one forged by the Chaos Bringer himself!_” Novablaze said excitedly, hopping to his pedes.

“_Hmmm_?” The grey-and-black mech murmured, tilting his head curiously. He hadn’t yet met Galvatron personally and all the news reports of the Decepticon Leader were really quite outrageous-sounding, he’d dismissed everything as _sheer hype_.

“Nova’s _probably _right—there’s no one in this universe more unpredictable than Galvatron. Only Rodimus has been able to predict him and that’s not even a guarantee he’ll predict Galvatron accurately!” Kicker laughed warmly, rising to his knees to look over the back of the couch and out the windows—where the current sparring match between Rodimus Prime and Galvatron was still going on in the distance.

_Could it really be?_ All Firedrive needed was to find Rodimus Prime in order to pretty much find everyone else that Vector Sigma were looking for all these millennia……….?

* * * * *

If Rodimus Prime didn’t get Galvatron to end this sparring match soon, he’d be _far too tired_ to frag in the aftermath. Had he actually gotten out of shape being a diplomat most of the time—and was no longer living on Chaar with Galvatron to challenge him practically every single day? Maybe when he got back to Cybertron he’d need a combat refresher course and to build more stamina with Ultra Magnus………..?

Or maybe he was simply tired because Galvatron kept him awake practically all night last night, fragging for the most part, and then as soon as they both bathed……..they slept a bit and when they woke up—it was an immediate challenge to a fight. But, then, **_that _**was Galvatron’s right to ask for it—it was one of his bonuses for signing the ceasefire accords that had now held up for fifteen years. If Rodimus Prime was _too-slagging-tired_ to keep up with that, it was his own _Primus-be-damned fault_—he could clearly hear Galvatron say in a lecture to him if he called for a quit now.

The worst thing was, after fifteen years, Galvatron now knew a lot of the tricks that the flame-colored mech often tried to use. If it had to do with combat, Galvatron always _remembered_—he learned and he got better at anticipating such a trick in future combat. He was _absolutely and completely_ a warmachine, there was no denying that. The young Autobot Leader would have to start learning new tricks to try and keep Galvatron wary of him. But for right now…………he was way too tired to think and while he was trying to devise a defensive tactic, Galvatron slammed smack into him—their frames rolling in the dusty surface of Chaar, eventually ending with Galvatron pinning Rodimus Prime tightly to the ground beneath his bulky frame.

“_I surrender_………..” Rodimus groaned softly.

“**_Surrender_**?” Galvatron pouted.

“_Yeah, whatever_. I need some Energon and a bit more than a couple hours of recharge, my Emperor……..I’m _kinda_ tired,” the flame-colored mech responded, his optics offlined as he tried to relax a little bit.

The powerful Leader of the Decepticons felt his lover and rival’s frame relax and saw the dimming of the optics as they went offline. _It was **full surrender**_. He was disappointed—it was the first time in a very long time where Rodimus Prime did not have _some kind of trick_ to turn the tables on him, in their sparring matches. Galvatron gave a deep sigh and rose to his pedes, reaching down to grab the flame-colored mech’s shoulder and hauled him up to his pedes, then flung the mech over his shoulder, between the pillar and his collar fairing.

“You have not been stressing out, my Prime?” Galvatron said, no emotions in his voice as he started walking towards his palace, as the flame-colored mech wrapped his arms around the stabilizing pillar for the cannon alt mode that was on Galvatron’s back.

“_No_, not so much, really. Got a lot on my mind, though………..and I _did_ have to connect with the Matrix to heal Firedrive, though,” Rodimus answered, nuzzling the stabilizing pillar as he felt Galvatron’s powerful field wrap around him. As always it was _neutral_, but it was comforting in the way that Galvatron used it.

“_Ah_. **_That_** is it. You tend to use a lot of stamina when you use the Matrix’s energy in any way,” the powerful purple-and-grey mech responded, reaching his free hand over to pat his younger lover’s aft with fondness. “Well—let us remove the battle stains and dust from our frames with a nice bath,” he said as he walked down the hallway to his bathing room, “Can you stand on your own pedes while I prepare the bath, my Prime?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’m good, Galvatron,” Rodimus Prime chuckled as Galvatron put him down. He grabbed one of his lover’s helm tines and pulled the powerful mech’s faceplate over to his, swiping his glossa through Galvatron’s lips and reveling in the kiss for several luscious moments.

Galvatron pulled away with a light chuckle and reached over to pat Rodimus’ helm, as he would do to one of their sparklings. Then he started the jets and water into the tub, walking over to his shelf with all of his favorite minerals, scrubs and polishes. The powerful mech grabbed a container with a foaming saline mixture and poured half of it into the tub. He replaced the container on the shelves and chose his favorite gel scrub, some sponges and set those beside the tub…….then grabbed his best and very favorite of all his polishes and some polish cloths and placed those on the bench under the fan. By the time that Galvatron had finished all of his preparations, the tub was foamy and full, with the jets making the water swirl lightly around in the tub.

“In we go, Prime,” the Decepticon Leader chuckled, grabbing Rodimus by the waist and taking them both into the heated swirling water of the tub.

“Galvatron…………**_you_** are ridiculous and overbearing—and honestly sweet, even though you don’t realize it,” Rodimus Prime chuckled, stretching out on the seating across from his lover and sinking into the water all the way up to his shoulders. It was hot enough to be soothing to his overworked frame and circuits. “_Mmmmmm_…………this is **_so good_**, Galvatron. I could seriously stay in here for hours right now.”

Galvatron tossed his head back and roared with laughter. “My Prime, your armour may warp if you stay in here too long!” He teased lightly—as close to a joke as the Decepticon Leader could ever come, most likely. The bulky purple mech reached over for one of the sponges he’d gotten from his supply shelf, added a swath of gel to the soft surface and then threw it over at his lover. 

It bounced on Rodimus Prime’s collar fairing and the flame-colored mech grabbed it from the water quickly. “Am I supposed to clean myself or clean you, my lord?” He laughed, warmly, gazing at his lover with his blue glass covered optics glowing brightly.

“What do _you_ think, my Prime?” Galvatron chortled, scooping up the other sponge and slathering it with gel, before applying it to his own frame. “Save your energy for **_later_**, my precious little Hot Rod—after we have both fueled and can relax in the berth.”

Rodimus chuckled and smiled. He started scrubbing his own frame and relaxed for now. Galvatron _wasn’t_ the chatty type and the silence was full of their fields reaching out for one another and just reveling in one another’s presence together. They both scrubbed down their own frames and relaxed in the warmth of the swirling water. No words were really needed between them, when they understood one another deep down to their Sparks.

_Time. Distance. Other relationships. **Nothing** ever really parted the two of them, when the Spark-bond they shared defined both of their lives forever._

Eventually the two got out of the tub, dried off and polished up their frames a little bit. Then they walked through the beaded curtain into Galvatron’s luxurious berthroom. Rodimus Prime went straight over to the berth, while Galvatron made a detour over to his temperature-controlled storage cabinet and pulled out two cans of Premium Grade Energon. Then the Decepticon Leader joined his Autobot lover in the berth, closing the curtains and dimming the lights to a very low setting.

Rodimus opened his can of Energon and took a few sips. “_Oh_. This blend is nice! Did Krok make _this one_, too? That mech’s got **_serious_** Energon blending skills!” The young Autobot Leader murmured, grinning happily as he took a few more sips.

“_Yes_. That Decepticon has finally been able to set up his own drinking establishment. He has been asking for blends from Cybertron and Earth as well, from other Decepticons and Autobots. It has been a popular establishment, though we have had to place restrictions upon it—a little harsher than I would prefer to limit my Decepticons with,” Galvatron responded, after taking a few swigs of Energon from his can. He wrapped his arm around Rodimus Prime’s waist as the flame-colored mech curled against his side.

“_Yes, **well**_. Bars should probably have restrictions, because you don’t want overfueled mechs and femmes making afts of themselves and getting in trouble,” Rodimus chuckled warmly.

“_Indeed_,” Galvatron murmured, his frame finally in a state of full relaxation.

Rodimus Prime could tell his powerful lover was happy and as satisfied as he could be right now—despite the disappointment of a surrender from his treasured rival during their sparring match not so long ago this day. The flame-colored mech drank the remainder of his Energon and snuggled happily against the Decepticon Leader’s side. Galvatron gave a light chuckle and patted his Autobot lover’s aft fondly.

“_So_, Firedrive tells me that the type of Mini-Con that his kind are were created by Vector Sigma to assist us in the war—many of them transform into weapons or other assistive forms for combat,” the young Autobot Leader began. He was curious to get Galvatron’s thoughts on things, because sometimes Galvatron’s first thoughts and straightforward way of thinking gave Rodimus ideas on what to consider next. It was helping, even if the powerful warmachine didn’t realize he was actually helping out.

“But _why_ would they transform into weapons? Does the Master Programmer think our own subspace weapons are not good enough for combat?” Galvatron muttered, a small pout in his voice, because he considered his nova cannon the most powerful weapon in existence.

“I think Vector Sigma predicted this thing with Starscream,” Rodimus Prime responded, lightly patting Galvatron’s chestplate with a servo. “But that’s _not_ what I want to get at right now. Firedrive also told me that he and the other Battle Masters were sent out into the universe looking for specific Cybertronians. One of them was me, but another one is Flamewar………._unfortunately_.”

“**_Grrrr_**………I will _not _have you say that femme’s designation in my presence again,” the powerful Decepticon Leader snapped, his claws digging roughly into the derma and armour of the flame-colored mech’s aft.

“**_Tch_**. It’s not like I wanted to even mention it, but you’d snarl at me to tell you who it was, if I _didn’t_,” Rodimus Prime griped, grunting softly and bumping his fist against Galvatron’s chestplate. “But, look……..he said that two other ships were looking for other specific Cybertronians. I think when we return to Cybertron, Firedrive and I will ask Vector Sigma for more information……..but I’m taking Kicker with me, because the Master Programmer was looking for him, too.”

“Why in the Pit would the Master Programmer be looking for _a fleshling_!?” The Decepticon Leader groaned, shaking his head with annoyance.

“It’s a good question, my Emperor. But I think Vector Sigma predicted our encounter with the Earthlings long ago—Iacon was infused with an oxygen-rich atmosphere. The _only city_ on all of Cybertron to have such an environment,” the flame-colored mech explained. “But Kicker’s anticipation engine is an interesting ability—_that_ and his EM field that’s very much like ours. Even for as close a friend as Spike has always been to the Autobots—_he _didn’t have that gift. _Daniel_ doesn’t have that gift. But a human boy who had **_never_** interacted with us until he was nearly ten years old has gifts that parallel a Cybertronian’s special abilities.”

“I do not like what that forebodes, my Prime. We should _not_ be drawing fleshlings into our conflicts,” Galvatron said, very seriously.

It wasn’t as if Galvatron had any sympathy or empathy for any kind of organic species, but the fact that he drew a line upon them being involved in any wars that involved Cybertronians showed that he preferred Cybertronians to be insular in their own personal vendettas. Rodimus Prime knew that Galvatron was infuriated by Starscream involving organics in his own little Destron group—and thus involving them in this new war that was building.

“_He is also a child_. That, alone, should exempt him from anything involving us. The Master Programmer had absolutely _no right_ to involve a human child in our affairs,” the powerful Decepticon Leader added very quietly.

But even as Galvatron said the words, Rodimus actually felt something that may be Galvatron’s style of “_concern_” for anything in his lover’s field—and it may be because Kicker was Stormbreaker’s friend and the femmeling was _very precious_ to the Decepticon Leader. The powerful grey-and-purple mech realized if this human “_friend_” of his secondborn offspring’s were involved in conflict………then Stormbreaker would become involved as well. And **_that_** was something Galvatron did not want to happen in any way or any form.

“You are absolutely right, my lord. Primus and Vector Sigma had no right to do that, but the reason must be very important _if they have_,” Rodimus Prime responded, taking Galvatron’s empty can of Energon and rolling over to put them on the end table on his side of the berth. Then he rolled back and wrapped his arms around Galvatron firmly, snuggling close. “I intend to find out why when I get to Cybertron. Vector Sigma has been cryptic, but if he expects me to fix the situation, then I need to see the full scope of matters.”

“Yell at the Master Programmer if you must—_tell him I disapprove of this. **Of all of it**._ He has no right to play god with our species,” Galvatron grunted with frustration.

That was another thing, Galvatron didn’t believe in “_gods_” of any sort. He used the example of the Cybertronian version of Hell (_the Pit_) merely in a jesting manner—he understood what religion meant to their species, but could care less about it, _personally_. To Galvatron, _when you died_, your program and Spark both extinguished forever—**_it was the end of your existence_**. There was _no_ alternative existence. And Galvatron might be right in his beliefs, but to many……..religion was a method of comfort. To believe there’s something better when the suffering in your life is done, it gave others hope to keep living on.

The Matrix itself, it didn’t house the actual programs or Sparks of the previous Autobot Leaders who held it—it held copies or “_ideas_” of who those mechs and femmes were. **_It held their imprints_**. The only one whose Spark and program were inside of the Matrix was _Arrowshot_. And after much research, Rodimus Prime postulated that because Arrowshot stole the original Key to the Master Programming Computer—it was Arrowshot’s Spark fused with the original Key that created what the Matrix actually was. The Matrix was an eternal physical representation of a Spark—_and it was Arrowshot’s Spark_—so, it made sense that Arrowshot’s program would also be inside of his own Spark.

The Matrix could also “_jumpstart_” a dead Spark—within a certain set of parameters. It had been able to bring Optimus Prime back to life, because the _imprint of his program_ was within the catalogue of the Matrix itself. But the Matrix would not be able to bring back to life someone whose imprint was not within its catalogue.

“You may disapprove, my Emperor……..but I have a feeling Vector Sigma could care less what you think,” Rodimus Prime chuckled warmly. He shifted and climbed on top of his lover’s bulky frame, straddling the powerful warmachine’s hips and grinding his groinplating gently against his lover’s own groinplating. “Besides, it’s for me to deal with Vector Sigma—if I need your help, you know I’ll send you the most desperate glyph-message ever, crying for my Emperor to come and rescue me,” he added with a teasing smirk.

“_As always, my Prime!_” Galvatron chortled, responding the to sexual teasing of their frame-grinding by opening his spike plating. His black spike pressurized to full, instantly, and the crimson biolights on the underside pulsed rapidly.

Rodimus chuckled, wrapping a servo around the organ and stroking it fondly. Galvatron was already in a state of heavy arousal—it was awfully kind of the Decepticon Leader to keep talking with him, though now it was quite clear he would much rather frag than talk. The young Autobot Leader supposed he could give his powerful lover that much right now, since Galvatron had been patient enough to hold a conversation for the past half-hour. The flame-colored mech rubbed the pad of his thumb along the strip of biolighting that traversed the path of the transfluid pressure line on his lover’s rigid spike, he pressed lightly in a few spots and was rewarded with some soft grunts of pleasure from the powerful Decepticon Leader.

_‘Well, it’s not as if I don’t want to frag either—I’m glad he let me have a little rest by chatting it up with me,’_ the flame-colored mech thought to himself, smiling softly as he observed leaking trails of silvery pre-transfluid leaking from the tip of Galvatron’s hard spike. He felt his own body respond, even as he teased Galvatron, his valve tightening lightly with anticipation……….Rodimus Prime knew that the moment he opened his valve panel, lubrication would soak everything near it—he could feel that he was very wet and very ready for interfacing.

“My Prime, are you just going to keep putting it off—or are you actually going to put it in your valve?” Galvatron laughed, reaching his servos out to pat his younger lover’s legs fondly. “Your field and our bond are telling me that you seriously want to frag until you are unconscious, so you may as well stop fooling around and _just do it_.”

Rodimus Prime looked over at Galvatron’s faceplate and saw the devious smirk on it.

“_Oh, fine, ruin my fun!_” The flame-colored mech chuckled. He lifted his hips and then opened his valve panel, leaking lubricant all over his thighs and dripping onto Galvatron’s rootplating as he tried to center his valve over the head of his lover’s spike. Then he sank down and grinned at his older lover lovingly. “There, is _that _better, my lord?” He laughed, patting the backs of Galvatron’s servos on his knee-joints.

“I _do_ appreciate it. However, usually in this position, you enjoy playing with your own spike as well—so, you might as well get _that_ out and start stroking it,” the grey-and-purple mech chortled, patting his lover’s knee-joints.

_Galvatron knew him **far too well**!_

Rodimus Prime gave a daredevil’s grin, leaned back a little bit and reached one servo back to rest it on Galvatron’s thigh. He opened his spike plate and the eager organ pressurized with a sharp hiss. He reached his other servo down and began to stroke his own spike.

“I hope you enjoy the show, my Emperor,” the flame-colored mech said, offlining his optics and beginning to move his hips—enjoying the sensations of his lover’s spike within him, as well as the rising lust and desire in their fields, swirling around them. He gripped his own spike harder and jerked on it rapidly, following the rhythm and letting it take control.

“I always do, my Prime……….._I always do_,” the powerful Decepticon Leader replied, warmth and fondness in the tone of his voice.


	2. History and the Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rodimus Prime visits with Vector Sigma and winds up taking on some unpleasant tasks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expanding out the universe even further with classic convention created and newer animated series characters! XD

_ Chapter Two: History and the Future _

“Rodimus—we’ve got a distress beacon, an old Autobot frequency,” Fangry said, turning his chair around in his piloting area. “I know we’re on our way to Cybertron, but we _might_ want to find the source of this first.”

“How far away is it? Are we closer than the _Thunder Arrow_ is?” Rodimus Prime asked, walking down to the piloting area and leaning over the Decepticon’s shoulder to view the data on his display.

They had planned on meeting up with Deszaras’ ship on the way back to Cybertron—so that they could confer with the Decepticon commander on some of the things that Firedrive had filled them on. Galvatron had seemed rather unenthusiastic about the Battle Master thing and that some tiny mech was looking all over the galaxy for him—clearly in some place that he was nowhere near. The Decepticon Leader had very little patience for someone who had no clue what they were doing.

Rodimus just whispered to Firedrive to _let it go_—and if Galvatron were needed at some point, he could be trusted to participate, especially if the young Prime himself persuaded him to do so. For now, they would head to Cybertron and meet up with Captain Deszaras and his crew there.

“Yes, we’re closer than the _Thunder Arrow_,” the magenta-and-black Decepticon responded, quietly.

**|Slipstream, stay with the kids. Have the Mini-Cons stay with you, too. We have something to deal with.|**

**|Understood, Rodimus.|**

“Firedrive, since you’re still recovering—I’d like you to go stay with Slipstream and the kids,” Rodimus said, turning back towards where his captain’s chair was on the bridge. The grey-and-black Battle Master had been standing near it talking to him before this issue came up. “Fangry, set course towards the source of the distress call. Send a brief notice to Captain Deszaras of our diversion.”

Firedrive walked off the bridge towards Rodimus Prime’s own quarters, where Kicker and Stormbreaker were watching a movie, along with Slipstream and the Mini-Cons. He heard the door click to locked as soon as he entered the room. Just that instant, Kicker leaped to his feet and stomped over to the Battle Master.

“_Hey_, what’s going on? Did Rodimus just **_lock _**us all in here?” The human teenager snapped softly.

“We’ve received a distress call. They’re going to go respond to it—it’s up to us to take care of Stormbreaker and Slipstream,” Firedrive said seriously, holding the young male’s gaze. “It’s best for us to stay on the ship while they go and find out the problem.”

“But what if they need help?” Kicker pouted, kicking at the floor with a foot.

“Rodimus Prime has been fighting for much longer than _your_ short lifetime. Sixshot is an extremely powerful Decepticon. _They will be fine_. We must protect the femmes, all right?” The small grey-and-black mech responded, reaching over and lightly patting the human boy’s shoulder.

“Is cari in trouble?” Stormbreaker asked, pausing the movie they were watching and getting up from her seat on her berth.

“No, he’s fine. Your carrier is very smart and very skilled, you should not worry about him. We should just continue watching this film that you are viewing,” Firedrive responded, smiling at the femmeling and walking over to take a seat on the couch where Kicker had been sitting. “What is it that we’re watching?” He asked.

Kicker stomped over and sat down next to the Battle Master.

“It’s a movie from Earth about _superheroes_. Kicker showed me how _awesome_ superheroes are!” Stormbreaker said, excitedly. “There’s this mega-bad alien guy who wants to conquer Earth with his weird and bizarre lackeys. Then these six superheroes from different places all work together to beat him!” The young femme said with a big grin.

“It sounds very fascinating. Are there these superheroes back on your home planet, Kicker?” Firedrive asked, looking at the still on the screen—focused on a very handsome human man with short blonde hair, a colorful costume and a cape, he looked unrealistically muscular.

“Nah, not for real,” the teenage boy responded. “It’s like superheroes are all our ideals and hopes for humanity.”

“All societies should have such things. If you visualize your ideals so clearly—even if using fantasy to portray them, it is a worthy thing,” the Battle Master said softly.

Meanwhile, the _Arrowshot_ landed on the small planetoid that the Galactic Alliance charts called “_Amaar_”. The readings of Cybertronian bio-signatures numbered over one dozen, but how many were amongst the ones who needed help and how many might possibly be the attackers—assuming the attackers _were _Destrons? Rodimus Prime made sure to land the _Arrowshot_ far enough away from any of the conflict and as soon as he left the ship with Metalhawk and Sixshot, he made sure the variable shielding was up, for safety purposes. The remainder of the crew remained on alert.

Metalhawk flew ahead, swiftly, to try and get a report on the situation, as Rodimus drove in his alt mode and Sixshot drove beside the young Autobot Leader in his armoured car form, from amongst his six modes.

**|Definitely Destrons, but not units we’re familiar with. I recognize the commander of this force though and I’m _very impressed_ Starscream has won him over.|**

That report from Metalhawk had Rodimus Prime puzzled.

“It’s _Overlord_. I had no idea he was even still alive,” Sixshot said, viewing the photo-captures that Metalhawk sent along with his glyphs. “But those other two………..they look like Darkwing and Dreadwind repainted. I don’t know of any twin Decepticons to those two.”

“I recognize the armoured femme as _Strika_, she was in the same unit that Flamewar was—at least from what little we could get out of Flamewar,” Rodimus added. “The Autobots, though—I’m not familiar with any of them, I’m afraid.”

Sixshot felt a small ripple of fear through Rodimus Prime’s EM field, before the flame-colored mech could even hide it. Darkwing and Dreadwind had killed the young Autobot—once. Only by way of a miracle had Hot Rod been brought back to life. The old Decepticon warrior was certain that the experience left some deep scars within the young Autobot, whether he wanted to admit them or not. Supposedly, Star Saber and Deadlock had taken the two Decepticon assassins in and gotten a bounty on them from the Galactic Alliance. But it had been some years and perhaps Starscream had found a way to free them. They might have repainted their frames to avoid bounty capture again………..?

“I recognize _Magnificus_—he was actually the Science Institute’s liaison to the old Senate. Barricade is a Decepticon,” Sixshot added to their tally of mechs and femmes they recognized from Metalhawk’s stills of the combat. “Given we’ve got a group wearing Destron brands, I think it’s easy to see we’ll be on the sides of the Autobots and their one little Decepticon they’ve got there.”

“True enough,” Rodimus responded. “What should we be wary of about Overlord?” He asked his friend and second-in-command on the Arrowshot and ambassadorial missions.

“He’s _powerful_. He’s in a class up there with Star Saber and Deszaras. That’s why I’m surprised Starscream won him over—Overlord never liked Starscream and would never even consider working with him in the past. The way Starscream’s changed must have struck a chord with Overlord,” the old Decepticon warrior sighed, softly.

“_Hmmmm_. We may need more help. I hope Captain Deszaras may be close enough to help us out, too,” Rodimus murmured softly. “**_Ugh_**, please don’t make me call Galvatron so soon after leaving Chaar!” He laughed. He heard a soft chuckle of response from Sixshot. “Be careful—I’ll leave Overlord to you, for now, and see what I can do to assist the refugees.”

The two crewmates parted ways, Sixshot transformed into his aerial mode and began to open fire on Overlord himself. Rodimus Prime avoided some fire from the two aerial Destrons that resembled Darkwing and Dreadwind and swerved around to have his trailer block the refugees in. He transformed and left his trailer viable from subspace to use the weaponry he had hidden within it. It also made a good extra barricade to protect everyone from.

“I’m _Rodimus Prime_ and we’re here to help,” the flame-colored mech said to the handful of Autobots and Decepticons—and that was when he noticed they had some Mini-Cons with them as well.

“Name’s _Strongarm_, I gathered together what was left of the Cybertronians in the area I was at and tried to make a way back to Cybertron. This is _Magnificus_,” the blue-and-white heavy-armoured femme responded and motioned at the injured scientist in black-and-silver armour, who had a similar frame design to Perceptor. Her gruff voice and attitude reminded Rodimus of Ironhide. “Those guys crippled our battered old ship and we crashed here.”

“If you haven’t heard, they’re **_Destrons_**—Starscream’s growing army. The Autobots and Decepticons are under a long-term ceasefire for the past fifteen-ish years or so,” the young Autobot Leader explained quickly.

The four Mini-Cons hovered around his legs, warbling at him—reminding Rodimus Prime of the other Mini-Cons that were on his ship, now. He knelt down and sent his field full of comforting emotions in it around everyone, reaching out to rub the Mini-Cons’ helms fondly.

“As much as we’ve been able to interpret from these little guys—since they do know how to write modern Cybertronian—the black-and-purple ones are _Storm Cloud_ and _Whisper_, while the red-and-white ones are _Red Hot_ and _Fixit_,” Barricade said, firmly. “I’m _Barricade_ and I’ve heard some fun rumours about the current Decepticon Empire, that’s for sure.”

“I’m _Nightbeat _and this is _Siren_,” the dark blue-and-yellow mech introduced and then motioned to a red-white-yellow mech next to him. “There really is peace, though—that’s not just one of the odd rumours?” He asked, curiously.

“_It’s true_. Peace of a sort. The Ceasefire Accords, which Galvatron and I both signed and he’s been……….**_ahem_**, _gracious enough_, to adhere to,” Rodimus laughed warmly. “He and I have a thing, so that kind of helps the times stay peaceful.”

“A _‘thing’_, **_hmmmm_**?” Strongarm chuckled with a wry smile. “I imagine it’s a powerful _‘thing’_ for any Leader of the Decepticons to want to stay faithful to,” she added.

“Well, we **_do_** have sparklings together, there’s that…………and the interfacing, too………..” the flame-colored mech laughed in response, opening a side door in his trailer and taking out some weapons to refresh the weapons supply the mixed band of Autobots, Decepticons and Mini-Cons were using.

“You’re joking? _Offspring_?” Barricade grunted, taking a sniping rifle and then added the small photon laser to his hip for extra use.

“As weird as it sounds, it’s absolutely true—and once we take care of these guys, you can meet one of them. She travels with me on my ship—which Galvatron gave to me—the _Arrowshot_,” Rodimus responded with a warm grin at the group. “Her name’s _Stormbreaker_………..and if you mess with her, Galvatron **_will_** kill you, then destroy you—_in that order_,” he laughed. Then he looked down at the Mini-Cons. “You little ones don’t fight, do you?” He asked of them. Red Hot and Fixit shook their heads, but Storm Cloud and Whisper nodded vigorously. “Do you want any weapons, then?” He asked of the two purple-and-black little mechs. They nodded and climbed into the trailer to find ones they felt they could handle. “The two of you should stay far back and keep behind cover, all right?” He said to the two red-and-white smaller mechs. “Is it just your group?” The young Autobot Leader asked, looking back at Strongarm.

“_Now_, yes. We lost a few in the attack and the crash,” the blue-and-white femme said with a deep sigh.

“Don’t worry, after this we’re headed directly to Cybertron—after you’re there you can decide whether Cybertron’s for you or if you’d like to go to Chaar or Earth,” Rodimus Prime said firmly. Just then a message popped up on his HUD. He read the glyph-message. Then he placed a digit to his audial and glanced in the direction of where Sixshot was doing his best to take on Overlord. **[Captain Deszaras just glyphed me—they’re five minutes out from our location. Hang in there a bit longer, Sixshot!]** He audio-messaged the old Decepticon warrior.

**[Will do, Prime!]**

After Sixshot’s response, Rodimus glyphed Deszaras back to explain about the primary Destron to take down here was Overlord—that way he and his crew knew where to focus their strategies when they arrived on the planetoid.

Star Saber and Deszaras jumped out of their ship as soon as it was viable to do so—likely leaving Deadlock to find somewhere to park the _Thunder Arrow_. The two larger-sized mechs landed with an echoed thud just a couple of yards from where Sixshot was keeping Overlord busy.

“**_Incoming!_**” Star Saber roared, rushing forwards with his Saber Blade swinging.

Sixshot transformed into his winged-wolf mode and immediately ran far away from the combat, heading for where Rodimus Prime was with the refugees. He transformed into his heavy cannon mode and planted himself right in front of the flame-colored trailer that was making a blockade.

Deszaras transformed into his monster-bird form and roared furiously before spitting intense flames at Overlord, even as Star Saber swiftly moved out of the way. The two of them had both fought against each other and fought together for many millennia—they knew one another’s battle tactics as well as they knew each other’s Sparks.

Once the two powerful war generals had entered combat—it was practically over for the Destrons. Overlord knew he was outmatched if he had to face **_both_** Star Saber and Deszaras at the same time. He called for his Destron troops to regroup and then they all retreated. Once Star Saber and Deszaras were assured that Overlord and his unit were gone, the two of them walked over to where Rodimus Prime was. Now that the threat was gone, Sixshot transformed back into his primary form, even as Metalhawk landed beside him…………and Rodimus Prime commanded his trailer back into its subspace pocket.

“Honestly, Rodimus—I’m starting to believe Lord Galvatron when he says that trouble follows you everywhere,” Captain Deszaras chuckled as he approached.

“_Weeeeeeeeeeellllllll_………..we kinda went looking for it this time,” the flame-colored mech laughed warmly. “Now, I guess, we can all head for Cybertron together.”

“Indeed. I need to confer with Ultra Magnus and Kup about old units and maps of where they might have been sent. It’s getting a bit too quiet out there and I’m getting concerned about whether we’ve actually found everyone or if Starscream has gotten to them all first,” the tall blue-and-silver mech sighed as he watched Star Saber go over to the group of Autobots, Mini-Cons and the lone Decepticon and speak softly with them.

“_Oh!_ I have someone who wants to talk to you, Deszaras,” Rodimus said, remembering what Firedrive had been talking to him about. “Come with me. I’ve glyphed Minerva to come and check for injuries. Once we’ve determined everything’s all right, we’ll head to Cybertron.”

Almost as soon as he said it, he saw the small ambulance-type of vehicle racing towards them, as well as Fangry in his wolf-beast form flying right behind her. He said he’d leave everything in her capable servos as he walked with Captain Deszaras back to the _Arrowshot_. When they approached the ship, they saw Deadlock exit from the nearby _Thunder Arrow_ and the flame-colored mech waved and motioned at the grey-and-white Decepticon to come with them.

Kicker was in his full armour, standing at the top of the boarding ramp walkway with his hands on his hips. Rodimus Prime could feel a small swirling anger around the human teenage boy.

“_Why’d_ you lock us in, Rodimus?” Kicker snapped, staring up at the flame-colored mech as the young Autobot Leader walked up the ramp.

“Why do you think, Kicker? See, the _very moment_ I unlock the doors, you’re already out here—ready to get into trouble,” Rodimus answered with a sigh, reaching down to lightly pat the boy on the helmeted head with a couple fingers.

“_Caaaaaarrrrriiiii!!!_” A familiar voice squealed.

Rodimus caught Stormbreaker and scooped the femmeling up as soon as she was close enough to grab. “Are you all right, my little dear-spark?” The young Autobot Leader chuckled, smiling at her and rubbing nasal ridges with her. She giggled, nodded, and hugged him lovingly—her field rippling out around him with happiness and love. Then he set her down so she could go play with the Mini-Cons elsewhere on the ship. “Firedrive—_this_ grey-and-white mech is Deadlock. Why don’t you ask him your question?” Rodimus Prime said, looking down at the grey-and-black Battle Master as the remainder of the crew all started to gather in the loading bay around them.

“_Who? **Me**?_” Deadlock murmured, pointing at himself and tilting his head with puzzlement.

“Were you once known by the designation of _‘Drift’_?” Firedrive asked, looking up at Deadlock, servos on his hips and tilting his head curiously.

Deadlock flinched—and _flinched hard_.

“Rodimus—perhaps you should have asked me about this first. This situation isn’t a pleasant one,” Deszaras said, his deep voice reverberating in the area.

“No, I’m not going to ask personal questions or to delve into a past—I just need to know if you _are_ that mech. Vector Sigma is looking for you if you are,” Firedrive said, his field flaring out with an emotion of apology in it.

Deadlock incycled a deep breath. “I went by _that name_ once, yes. **_Why_** is the Master Programmer looking for me?” He asked, softly. His field, though being held tight to his frame, had tremors of anxiety rippling through it.

“Long ago, three ships of Battle Masters were sent out towards the frontier to look for specific Cybertronians—Autobots, Decepticons, even the few unbranded that our kind has. I can’t tell you exactly why Vector Sigma is looking for them, just that it has to do with a great darkness rising that will threaten our very existence,” Firedrive said, smiling disarmingly up at Deadlock. “My friend, Nightstick, is seeking three Cybertronians of _‘balance’_ and one of the designations given to him was _‘Drift’_ and he was part of the Negare Strike Unit.”

“Balance, _hunh_?” Deadlock murmured, crossing his arms over his chest. He stared at a spot on the floor in front of him. Then he reached up and rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. “_Well_. **_Maybe_** I’m that. It’s probably the reason I’m alive today,” he sighed, softly.

“Do you think that Vector Sigma is worried about Starscream and his Destrons? Could they be more dangerous than the war we already had for millions of years?” Deszaras asked, looking down at the Battle Master with a puzzled look on his faceplate.

“I’m not really certain. If you’ve ever spoken with Vector Sigma, sometimes what it says is not always a direct meaning of what it means,” Firedrive responded with a soft little chuckle. “Rodimus can definitely assure you of that.”

“I speak to Vector Sigma at least once every time I’m back on Cybertron—it acts very straightforward, but there’s layers to the words it says. So, _yeah_………it can be difficult to interpret exactly what it wants sometimes,” the flame-colored mech added, shaking his head softly. “Magnus and I were talking to it a couple years back and it asked us to go look for a missing gestalt in the Rust Sea, but gave us this ten-year timeframe in which to do our search. Vector Sigma doesn’t always have the best concepts of time, either.”

“So, this great danger it’s looking for champions to rise against, may be tomorrow or may be thousands of years from now?” The tall blue-and-silver mech asked, folding his arms over his chest and shook his head softly.

“Considering that we Battle Masters were sent out to the frontier a little over two million years ago, that’s an accurate assessment,” the black-and-grey little mech laughed warmly. “Some of us were given specific names and some were given merely descriptions, it was up to us to interpret the descriptions. I don’t know exactly what some of the other crews were looking for, but Nightstick said to me he was actually given a specific name—since he had that, I said I would keep my intelligence gathering open enough to look for the specific mech named _‘Drift’_.”

“Do you suppose that such a general description could fit a various number of mechs or femmes? I mean, in the case that the war might have eliminated the specific person you were looking for, right?” Rodimus Prime asked. “And, like, in my case……………I hadn’t even been created yet when Vector Sigma sent you all out into the frontier. Could there be others who _aren’t_ even created yet?”

“That’s why I think some descriptions are open enough. For our kind, it may be that one is created to replace another with those characteristics in life,” Firedrive responded, nodding up at the young Autobot Leader.

Just then, Minerva and the others all came back with the refugees. Rodimus broke up the group and said that it was time for them all to head back to Cybertron.

* * * * *

As soon as the _Thunder Arrow_ and the _Arrowshot_ got back to Cybertron, Ultra Magnus told Rodimus Prime that there was an urgent message for him from Cerebros. That had puzzled the young flame-colored mech, as Fortress Maximus had been out patrolling in sectors skirting the last known location of Scorponok and Starscream’s Destron forces. Cerebros had a minimal crew (about fifteen mixed Autobots and Decepticons, plus himself) and Fortress Maximus was travelling in his more space-worthy mode, as opposed to his battle-station mode.

Rodimus read the message and frowned. “I need you to send this information to Cyclonus, try to make sure that Galvatron **_isn’t_** in on this conversation—Cyclonus will find a better way of telling him,” the young Autobot said sternly to his Second-in-Command. “_Gah_, why must everything happen all at once? I really do need to go see Vector Sigma with Firedrive and Kicker—and now Deadlock, too,” he added, then he reached over and patted Magnus’ chestplate fondly.

“Honestly, Rodimus—Galvatron may be right about you and trouble. We seem to have more of it whenever you’re around,” Ultra Magnus said with a deep exvent of a sigh, then he gave Rodimus Prime a very fond smile. “Well, I hope that Cyclonus can stop Galvatron from powering out to that sector and blasting everything in sight just to get at Starscream, because the Destrons may not even be out there.”

“That’s why I want to make sure you tell **_Cyclonus_** and make sure Galvatron’s nowhere near the communications room,” the flame-colored mech responded. “We’ll be back later and I can debrief you on everything.”

“All right, take care,” the red-white-blue mech answered, patting Rodimus lightly on the back, in the center of the sunbright-yellow spoiler fin.

Rodimus Prime grinned at his friend and lover, then walked over to where the young human, the black-and-grey Battle Master and the stern grey-and-white Decepticon were waiting for him. He transformed into his trailer alt mode and opened the top hatch so that Firedrive and Kicker could ride along inside of him as passengers. Deadlock transformed into his own alt mode, a sleek Cybertronian speed-vehicle. The young Autobot Leader led the way down into the depths of Cybertron, all the way to the Chamber of the Forge, where Vector Sigma was housed and created new Cybertronians.

_{Welcome, my translator. Greetings to all.}_

“Hey, Vector Sigma,” Rodimus said. “I have Firedrive with me. This human is Kicker Jones and the Decepticon is Deadlock.”

_{The stern balance and the golden flame. Yes, I am aware of them. Firebolt, I welcome you back to Cybertron.}_

“It’s good to be back, Vector Sigma,” the small Battle Master responded with a smile, looking up. “I hope the others have made some progress finding the ones they’re looking for and didn’t run into the disaster that I did. I’m sorry I couldn’t save them—that I lost so many of my shipmates…………” Firedrive murmured, reaching across his chest with an arm to rub the opposite arm’s upper part lightly and regret flowed in his EM field.

_{The universe is unsafe for our kind, currently. That is the job of my translator—to make the universe understand us and our existence here. I still sense many Sparks with Nightstick and Recoil’s complements, so I believe they did not experience the trauma that you did.}_

Kicker stared up at the golden orb floating in odd circles and ovals up near the ceiling of the massive room. It, oddly, made him think of a balloon buffeted by air conditioning breezes in a large shopping center. It was hard for the teenage boy to believe that orb was a master programming computer. He wondered just where **_he_** fit into this society of giant (and some not-so-giant) robots and this future destiny thing that he was needed for.

“_Hey, Vector Sigma-guy!_ The future thing can’t be too far away if **_I’m_** involved in it, ‘cause I maybe only have a good sixty viable years in my life, you know!” Kicker said, loudly, planting his hands on his hips and frowned beneath his helmet. 

His hair was flying all around inside his helmet and actually felt a little too warm for as much as it was glowing.

There was almost the semblance of a chuckle in the room—though Vector Sigma didn’t quite speak in a normal way that all mortal beings spoke in.

_{My translator warned me of your youthful way of expression. I do not believe that this event is much further away anymore. Within the decade, which is why I asked for Delta to go look for that guardian—has there been any progress on that, my translator?}_

“_Who the heck is Delta?_” Kicker muttered, not exactly getting a direct answer to his question, though he got an answer at any rate. Which fit what Rodimus Prime had always told him about the way the Master Programmer had a tendency to speak.

“Well, Flamewar tends to only be…………_agreeable_………..to a certain point, Vector Sigma,” Rodimus answered, crossing his arms over his chest and shaking his head lightly. “She has actually been working with Hardhead, so Magnus made a good choice there. But she complains and then they have to call it quits for the week. The Rust Sea is a _very big_ place and we don’t really have any specific clues on where to look.”

For the first time since Rodimus Prime had ever been in Vector Sigma’s forging chamber, he felt a sense of anxiety in the Master Programmer’s aura. Vector Sigma did not have an EM field as the Cybertronians it produced did, but it had an aura. The aura could fill the room or be centered around the orb, it was similar to the EM field, but couldn’t be sensed by _normal Cybertronians_. Only those who held the Matrix of Leadership could feel Vector Sigma’s odd emotional aura.

_{The frame is old, my beloved translator. I cannot feel within it everything as I used to, so I cannot give you any specific area to search in the Rust Sea.}_

“Yeah, I understand. We’ll do our best to find this gestalt, but is it really _that important_?” The flame-colored mech asked.

_{There was a Quintesson back then, one who sided with the slave-brand. This Quintesson called Bora-il-Kalen created this guardian specifically to fight the Darkest One. Bora-il-Kalen’s twin had sworn to raise the Darkest One to consume this entire frame and others.}_

“That sounds like Unicron,” Deadlock murmured, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

_{The Chaos-Bringer was the prototype for the Darkest One. It contained a measure of the Darkest One’s power. However, the Chaos-Bringer itself was to bring about one who would assist the redemption of Primus and revitalize this frame.}_

“_Jeeze_—so, it really **_is_** Galvatron being one of the ones they’re looking for? He’s not going to be very pleased at that, Vector Sigma. He doesn’t really believe in all this stuff—life is living and all that. Fate is something that he considers nonsense,” Rodimus Prime sighed, shaking his head as he thought of Galvatron rushing in to save the day.

_{I’m certain you can be very persuasive to your sparkmate, my translator.}_

There was a hint of amusement in the “_voice_” as well as in the aura of the room.

“Between Cyclonus and I, we’ll figure something out on that front,” the flame-colored mech chuckled softly. “Do you have the name of the Quintesson twin? If they’re still around, they may still be doing what they can to raise this _‘Darkest One’_.”

_{Bora-il-Kalen is no longer around, but I think I’ve sensed the lifeforce of their twin, Kila-il-Lairn. However, I do not think they go by this designation anymore. Much like the Cybertronian species—the Quintessons that still use designations may discard one in favor of another designation, something to suit their purposes.}_

“In essence, we still have _no clue_ who the Quintesson is, then,” Deadlock said with a deep exvent of a sigh.

“It isn’t like we know many Quintessons _with names_, either. As I understand it, many of the ones we encounter are the _‘younger ones’_ and names don’t mean much to them,” Rodimus Prime said, looking over at the grey-and-white Decepticon. “Frankly, I only know of one living one that’s **_not_** in exile through those portal things deep in Cybertron. _Raj-ur-Malekk_, the one allied with Starscream.” Then the flame-colored mech looked up towards the hovering golden orb. “Vector Sigma—it’s not one of the exiled Quintessons is it? One sent to another dimention?” He asked, suddenly worried about what that might mean. He’d asked Vector Sigma to shut down that portal area, just to keep Cybertron safe, some years back—and the Master Programmer said once it was shut down, it would be unable to be reactivated. Which was fine for Rodimus Prime at the time, but **_now_**………..?

_{No. I have the listing of those Quintessons—and it is none of those. Kila-il-Lairn is somewhere in our universe, that I can assure you of.}_

“You know, not that I’m just standing around here doing amazing things or anything, Rodimus……….” Kicker began, his voice sounding a little cross and very tired. “But why not go find a Quintesson and ask them? I mean, they _are_ all aware of each other, even if they don’t interact, right? Because _that’s information_ and they want to be kept on top of information if they can. So, they probably talk to each other even if they don’t interact much, right? Kinda like family.”

_{You have great flashes of insight, golden flame.}_

“_Why, thank you!_” Kicker laughed warmly.

_{Perhaps this is the avenue you must pursue, my translator?}_

“Galvatron’s going to kill me. **_Ugh_**. If I go looking for Quintessons and _don’t destroy them_, he’ll never let me hear the end of it,” Rodimus Prime muttered, reaching up with a servo to rub the back of his neck. “_Primus_…………I’m going to have to **_pay_** a Quintesson to get information from them, that’s even worse!”

* * * * *

“_Wow, nice digs, Rodimus!_” Kicker laughed as he went to the young Autobot Leader’s habitation suite with him and Stormbreaker.

“Galvatron spoils us, I’m afraid. I could do with a simple berth and a desk, but he’s all about luxury. _‘You are my Prime and my spawn, you deserve only the best quality in the universe!’_……and that is exactly how he said it to me,” Rodimus said, shaking his head and sighing. “Stormbreaker likes to decorate the walls with her drawings, as you can see—I told her she can only have one wall.”

“Looks like the place has been overhauled from the other rooms I’ve seen—you know, when I was here before with my dad,” the teenage boy chuckled, walking around the very large room. Any room for a Transformer was massive to him.

“Galvatron made the Constructicons redo the whole thing. I think it was more personally for _his own benefit_—you know, his surprise visits,” the flame-colored mech explained, watching as Stormbreaker went and posted a new drawing to her one wall that was covered in papers of all the drawings she’d done over the years. “He can survive and thrive on the bare minimal of everything, but he does love his luxurious suite and berth and stuff. I’m sure he could survive with a plain old berth and all, but why should he when he doesn’t have to, I suppose?” He laughed.

“_Meh. **I suppose**_. He’s a weirdo,” Kicker laughed, walking over to look at the paper-covered wall of [most of] Stormbreaker’s drawings. “You can go ahead and go. You said you gotta talk to Ultra Magnus, right? And you assigned me to babysit anyways, so I think I can handle things for the _‘sleepover’_ now.”

As soon as Kicker said “_sleepover_”, the red-colored femme jumped up and down, squealing “_yaaaaaay!_”.

“I’ll crash with Magnus for the night, but promise me you’ll be good for Kicker—okay, Storm?” Rodimus asked, bending down to scoop her up for a hug. He rubbed nasal ridges with her and they both purred happily, with their EM fields full of love and happiness. “The Mini-Cons are in a suite nearby, they can help out, too, if you need anything. Stormbreaker knows where Energon is and you’ve got your mini-fridge with your food. **_Um_**……._waste processor_ for you humans……..it’s down on the main floor of the central offices. We don’t have humans here often enough to build one on every corner for convenience. That’s just a short walk away, all right?”

“I think I can manage to not need an emergency visit, I’ve got a pretty normal and controllable internal system,” Kicker laughed, seeing the light blush on Rodimus faceplate as he explained that part. “_You go now, shoo!_” The teenage boy chuckled, waving Rodimus away with both his hands.

So, the young Autobot Leader left his suite and walked down to the offices—most likely Ultra Magnus would still be working right now. And he was right. Rodimus Prime peered into the open door of the office and saw the red-white-blue mech with several datapads spread out on his desk, while one servo was typing away on the keyboard of his primary work computer. The flame-colored mech had to admit—Ultra Magnus’ ability to multitask was really very impressive.

Magnus glanced up, nodded and waved his other servo at the seating. Polite enough to non-verbally say “_I will be with you shortly_” to anyone. He finished up what he was doing in about five minutes and then pushed his chair back away from his desk to signal that he was done working for now.

They took a little bit of time for Rodimus to briefly explain the recent events on the ambassadorial trip and the visit down to Vector Sigma. He’d composed a full report for Ultra Magnus to read at his own time. Then said he left the kids in his suite for the night.

“You’re certain it will be alright to leave Kicker with Stormbreaker tonight?” The older mech asked, his posture going a little more slack with a sense of relaxation.

“_Sure_. I’ve done it back on Athenia. Kicker may be stubborn and hot-headed, but he is actually a very responsible young man. Plus he has a little sister that’s about Storm’s age, so he knows how to watch a _‘little girl’_,” Rodimus Prime answered, grinning over at his Second-in-Command. “Did you talk to Cyclonus without Galvatron around?” He asked, curiously, tilting his head curiously at the older mech.

“Galvatron was busy training Novablaze today, so it seems we lucked out. Since there was no concrete evidence of Destron activity—meaning, _no Starscream_—Cyclonus said he’d keep the information filed away, pending more of it,” Ultra Magnus answered, shaking his head. “I’m surprised, he’s really taken to training Nova quite enthusiastically—at least enthusiastically for Galvatron.”

“Galvatron’s finally realizing the hidden potential that Novablaze has. **_I _**think Nova can surpass Galvatron one day, but it’s hard to think of whether Galvatron will be proud and find a new challenge that’s better than I am…………or if he will pout about no longer being the _‘strongest in the universe’_,” the flame-colored mech chuckled, crossing one leg over another and putting his cupped servos on the upraised knee-joint. “Galvatron has different feelings for both of his children, I can’t blame him for either. With Nova, he never really saw much of the mechling’s initial years and it could be because of that he doesn’t realize that Nova was exactly like Stormbreaker back then. But he saw Stormbreaker’s birth and all her firsts, plus the way she clings to him—I think it strikes a deeply buried chord inside of Galvatron, that even he can find something he’d destroy the universe to protect. He thinks she’s _fragile_, because he saw her always so little and crying and clinging—she’s his precious little princess.”

“I suppose, to Galvatron, he _needs_ something. You’ve been trying to help him find all that—to interpret the mess of desires and emotions inside of him,” Ultra Magnus chuckled. “He is still a mech of instinct and that may be why he feels the stronger attachment to Stormbreaker—because he saw her so tiny and fragile, so his sire’s instincts kick in and that’s natural for him to feel those things. He doesn’t fight his instincts.”

“Definitely true,” the flame-colored mech, chuckled. “Any plans for tonight, besides heading for berth?” He asked, getting to his pedes and stretched his arms above his head with a light squeak of joints flexing.

“I thought we could read a little more of that book together tonight, if you wouldn’t mind,” the red-white-blue mech said, walking to the doorway and motioning for the younger mech to precede him to his own habitation suite.

“_Gah_, I wish actual history wasn’t written so dry!” Rodimus Prime groaned, clapping his servos over his faceplate with a slight bit of frustration.

“Not everything is written with high drama, Rodimus,” Ultra Magnus chided as he placed a servo lightly against the center of the younger mech’s sunbright yellow spoiler. They arrived at Magnus’ rather plain habitation suite and the flame-colored mech hopped straight into the berth, pulling back the heavy quilt and patted the space beside him for his Second-in-Command to join him there. “_Honestly_. Is fragging all you think about?” Magnus chuckled softly as he grabbed the reader tablet from the nearby shelves and slid in beside the more slender mech.

“It’s Galvatron’s fault and _yes_, I do think about it a lot……….but it’s not _all_ I ever think of,” Rodimus Prime teased, laughing warmly as he snuggled up against Ultra Magnus’ side. He flung one leg over Magnus’ hips and groinplating beneath the quilt and wrapped his arms around the bigger mech happily. “We don’t need to frag tonight, but maybe in the morning. _Read now, please_.” The older mech chuckled and shook his head as he booted up the reader tablet to the last bookmarked page of the historical volume.

It was something about the foundation of the old senate and times before Megatron’s creation. When Cybertron was trying to build itself up into a great civilization. There were conflicts between the consumer goods type and the military hardware type, neither of which had taken the names of Autobots or Decepticons, yet. Because of that, it was often a little difficult to tell the programming allegiance of some of the figures mentioned in the records. There were descriptions or quotations from some senator or another that made Rodimus think they were one brand or another, but it was interesting to note that the old senate seemed to contain a mix of both brands—which may be why the old senate actually fell apart, they disagreed too much on the paths Cybertronians needed to take.

Ultra Magnus hadn’t even been reading for thirty minutes yet when he sensed the looseness in Rodimus Prime’s frame against him. The younger mech’s engines were in a low, sustained rumble and his optics were completely dim and shuttered. The flame-colored mech’s EM field, though, was still draped over Magnus, flowing lightly with contentment. The old Autobot soldier bookmarked the place in the reader tablet and turned it off, reaching over to put it on the small table next to the berth.

_‘He must be worn out from everything. And I know Galvatron probably didn’t let him get as much rest as he should have, since they’d been apart a long time this last time,’_ Magnus thought, turning to pull Rodimus against him. There was a sleepy murmur from the younger mech, but he was pretty much in recharge right now. The older mech spooned his frame against the back of the flame-colored mech’s frame and tucked the quilt up high to their shoulders, getting buried in the warmth radiating out from Rodimus Prime’s frame and being kept beneath the quilt—warming both their frames soothingly.

In the morning, though, it would be a _completely different story_. After a full night’s recharge, Ultra Magnus had no doubt that the younger mech would be ready for some interfacing. He knew that the flame-colored mech had probably already made arrangements with Slipstream to check in on Kicker and Stormbreaker in the morning—just to give himself a little bit of extra time with Magnus, because soon he’d be off to Earth to take Kicker home.

For now, anyways. This was just an internship, but Ultra Magnus had no doubt that Rodimus Prime would invite the boy along on the adventures once Kicker had turned eighteen, officially. Rodimus liked humans a lot, he loved Daniel tremendously and he was fond of Spike and Carly. It seemed that, also, Kicker had a part to play in the future of Cybertron’s potential permanent peace—if the cryptic things Vector Sigma had been telling Rodimus Prime for years was right, at any rate. And Magnus knew that once Rodimus Prime was back around Athenia and the Earth area, he’d have to stop in at Metroplex and talk about recent things with Optimus Prime.

Rodimus was **_always busy_**. Always running around and doing things. Though Galvatron seemed to have accepted it as the way things were, he still completely monopolized the flame-colored mech’s time every so often—whether by a surprise visit to where Rodimus was or when the young Autobot Leader would make a trip to Chaar to check on things. Ultra Magnus had asked Galvatron, once, why he wasn’t more demanding of Rodimus’ time.

_ “This is what he is meant to do. I saw it in his Spark long ago. I would not drive him from what he is meant to do,” Galvatron had said, waving a servo dismissively._

_ “Yes, but…………don’t you miss having him answer you all the time?” Ultra Magnus had asked, still unhappy about the relationship that somehow managed to tie them all together._

_ “Of course I do! But he would stress and harm himself trying to do it all. I have others to occupy my time when my Prime is unavailable to me,” Galvatron had answered, a sharp snap of annoyance in the tone of his voice. “This is something you must learn, Ultra Magnus—**he is the Prime of all Primes**. There are paths he must walk that neither of us can follow him upon, even though we each try to claim him as our own. Tying him down—unless it is for fun and enjoyment—would only make him bring harm to himself.”_

_ Trying to explain to Galvatron that there were only two Autobot Leaders with the designation of “**Prime**” would be pointless. But Ultra Magnus understood what Galvatron meant. There was something very important that Rodimus Prime was meant to do—for Cybertron, for Chaar………..for Autobots and for Decepticons…………and for all of their species, scattered as they may be in the universe. Despite his simplicity, Galvatron understood everything far better than almost anyone else who might be around Rodimus Prime and everything he was doing right now._

_ Galvatron understood things better than Ultra Magnus did._

_ “His Spark is mine and that shall never change. **Never**,” Galvatron had said, his voice very low and possessive as they both watched the younger, flame-colored mech approach them, waving cheerfully at them both. “He is mine. **Mine**.”_

Ultra Magnus could _never_ compete with Galvatron. So, he had resolved to be the warm lover that Rodimus Prime should always have had to begin with. In the end, the relationship they were beginning to foster had become something good for the both of them. It was nice recharging next to Rodimus’ warm frame when they had the chance for it. Rodimus had also opened up and talked to him more about things—even the complicated things he’d mostly been keeping to himself for a very long time. And Ultra Magnus, himself, had opened up and talked more about his past—which was something he never spoke to anyone about. _Ever_.

The older mech better get into recharge soon, because Rodimus Prime would be very energetic first thing in the morning—it was hard enough to keep up with his drive at _any given time_, but try to do so without a full night’s recharge was asking for trouble. Ultra Magnus gave a light chuckle and settled down to let his systems wind down and slip into recharge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's...……...like the opposite of IDW's Deadlock/Drift scenario. I might get to this version's origin one day. This particular series is going to be a pretty long one anyways. XD


End file.
